


The God of Laundry and Hipbones

by FeaRauko



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, dean's pink panties, turnabout's fair play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeaRauko/pseuds/FeaRauko
Summary: This is a drabble for the prompt: Destiel - I’m sorry you caught me moving your clothes out of the dryer but in my defense I’ve been waiting for one to open up for about an hour nowOr...That one where Dean catches Cas moving his laundry, gawks at him like an idiot until he leaves, and then spends the next several months not being able to find him





	The God of Laundry and Hipbones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Petrichora_Vellichor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petrichora_Vellichor/gifts).

Dean lugged his clothes basket to the laundry room at the end of the hall and pushed the door open. He rolled his shoulders and yawned. Five in the morning was too goddamn early on a Saturday to be doing laundry, or awake at all honestly, but his internal clock apparently had a fucking sense of humour. Weekdays when you have eight o'clock classes? Waking up before ten is torture. Saturday morning? Better wake up at 4:30 for no fucking reason. Dean sighed. Oh well. At least there’d be open machines this way. 

He lifted the lid to the first washer. It was full. Dean rolled his eyes, shut the lid and moved to the next one. Also full. He eyed the third and only other washing machine in the room. _ You better fucking not be… _

_ Son of a bitch! _ He slammed the lid. Who the hell else is doing laundry this early on a weekend, huh? He dropped his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Okay. It was fine. None of the machines were still running, so hopefully whoever was using them would come move them soon. He’d just go to his room for a few minutes and come back. Dean picked up his laundry basket and went back to his room.

After milling around on his laptop for about thirty minutes, he dragged his clothes back down the hall. 

_ GODFUCKINGDAMMIT! _Dean slammed the last lid closed. Coffee. He needed coffee. He eyed his laundry basket. It could stay there. Not like anyone was going to steal his dirty clothes anyway. He turned and marched out the door, down the stairs, and to the Impala.

Thirty minutes later, he returned, coffee in hand. He was still annoyed, but the world was at least a little more tolerable now and his mind not so fuzzy. Not even bothering to check the other two, he walked straight to the third washer and began moving whoever’s clothes were in there to the nearest dryer. Just as he was standing up from the washer with an arm full of some stranger’s wet clothes, the door to the laundry room opened. Dean sighed. Of course they would pick _ now _ to come back.

Dean tossed the clothes into the dryer and turned ready to give a mix of an apology and an earful at whoever this was for their lack of courtesy, but was stopped dead in his tracks. Whatever Dean words had planned to say evaporated as he was left gaping at the most adorable, sex-haired, sleepy-eyed, perfect-jawed, half-dressed, fucking _ god _ that he had ever seen in his life...who was just standing there before him in the laundry room like it was something to do. Apparently, gods had dirty clothes too, because that was the only reasonable explanation for...for _ this _. The guys dark hair was sticking out in every direction. His loose gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, those jutting hip bones and abs between them further shown off by the oversized cropped off, dark-blue sweatshirt the guy wore. 

The angel rubbed sleep from his eyes and fixed dean with a confused expression. And damn...if those weren’t the bluest eyes dean had ever seen. The guy slowly looked back and forth between Dean and the washer he was standing in front of. “I...think those are mine.”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, man. Dean backed away and picked up his coffee, taking a swig. “But in my defense, I’ve been waiting for like, an hour for a machine to come open.”

The guy nodded. “My apologies. I was washing last night and fell asleep while I was waiting for the cycle to end.” He offered Dean a sheepish smile before moving the rest of his clothes over.

Dean just stood there, holding his coffee, watching him in a daze, Dean’s own laundry completely forgotten. How had he never seen this guy before? Sure, it was a big school, but they obviously lived in the same hall, right? 

The guy looked up at him as he finished moving over the last load. “Um, sorry again. I’ll try to be more cautious in the future about falling asleep mid-wash.”

Dean just nodded. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out as he watched him leave. A solid minute later, Dean finally came to himself and ran to the door, but the guy was nowhere to be seen. _ Dammit. _He threw his clothes into the washing machine and berated himself for completely losing it like that. He didn’t even get the guy’s name. Dean shook his head. Oh well, the god had to come back to get his clothes from the dryer right? Dean would just catch him then when he was here moving his clothes over.

He didn’t. 

When Dean came back, all the dryers were already empty.

Weeks passed, and Dean didn’t see him again.

Midterms passed, and Dean didn’t see him again.

Christmas break passed, and Dean didn’t see him again. 

If Dean developed a habit of keeping his door open while in the dorm so he could see people coming through the hall, that was nobody’s business.

If Dean also started sitting in the laundry room with his clothes, taking his homework or reading with him to wait there instead of going back to his room, that was nobody’s business.

They Made it halfway through the spring semester, and Dean still hadn’t seen him again. He had almost forgotten about the sleepy, blue-eyed angel...almost.

***

Dean walked into the laundry room to find all the washers full. He sighed. He didn’t have time for this tonight. Dean shook his head and grabbed his basket. He didn’t usually do this, but he headed for the stairs to try the one on the floor below him. 

He found two taken, but there was _ one _ open machine at least. Dean groaned. He had a few loads, and it was late... _ oh well. _He’d just stay up. He had lots of homework he needed to do anyway. He threw in the first load and ran back to his room to grab his homework.

He made it through the first cycle, moved the clothes over, threw the second load in the wash, and looked up at the clock. It said 2:00am. _ Ah. Screw it. _ No one else was going to be doing laundry this late, and tomorrow was a Saturday. He’d just come back in the morning. His bed had been calling out to him long enough.

***

Dean stretched in his bed and looked at the clock. 11:00 am. Huh, he didn’t usually sleep that late...even on a Saturday. Oh well. He made himself a cup of coffee, eagerly anticipating the life-giving elixir. Dean walked to the closet with his half-drank cup, shuffling through his depleted supply of clothing for what he would wear today. Dude, why did he have basically no clothes? _Wait…_

_ Dammit. _ Dean ran down the stairs best he could without spilling his coffee, wearing nothing but his boxers. He hated being _ that guy, _ you know? But apparently, he was. He rolled his eyes at himself as he roughly pushed open the door to the laundry room. There was a guy standing over the washer Dean had used. 

Dean froze. It was _ him, _ the adonis, the god, the absolute _ angel _ that Dean had run into at the beginning of last semester. Dean stood there staring at him. He was starting to think that maybe he had imagined the guy in his sleep-deprived state. But here he was, in all of his blue-eyed, dark-haired glory, a little more awake today...and moving _ Dean’s _forgotten laundry into the dryer. Dean would have laughed at the irony if the guy were not currently holding up a pair of pink satin panties. Dean felt the blush crawl up his neck as he stared, trying to decide if it was too late to run and come back later. 

The guy looked up at him and shrugged as he tossed them and several other items into the dryer. “I guess someone’s girlfriend left this in their room.” 

Dean laughed nervously. “I guess so...”

The guy looked back at Dean and tilted his head. “You...you’re the guy from upstairs.”

“Uh, yeah. Upstairs was full.”

The guy nodded as he threw his own clothes in the now empty washer. “I’m Castiel.” And _ fuck _ ...even his _ name _ was beautiful. He pointed to the other two washers. “I don’t know whose those are...but I’m pretty sure they were there all night. I’ll help you move them over if you want to put yours in.”

Dean felt his face heat up further. “Actually...the ones you just threw in the dryer were mine. I guess turnabout’s fair play huh?”

The guy smirked. “I guess so. Oh...so those were _ your _ girlfriend’s then.” 

Dean gaped at him. “Yes. I mean...no. I…” Okay, so what was he supposed to do here? He looked at Castiel. He looked...disappointed. Maybe Dean was imagining it, but it looked like his face had fallen a little. _ Oh, fuck it. _ He wasn’t about to let this guy think he was anything but single, so it was time to own it. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “They’re mine.” 

Castiel tilted his head as he looked back at him. “So, no girlfriend?”

“Nope.” Maybe it was his not quite awake yet brain, but he decided to add, “No, uh...boyfriend either.” 

And then Castiel, this guy had the gall, the balls, the absolute fucking _ audacity _ to give Dean the biggest, gummiest, most breathtaking smile Dean had ever seen. It was the kind that made you smile back. And so he did...and they just stood there, staring at each other, grinning like a couple of idiots. 

After a moment, Castiel finally dropped his eyes to the floor and smiled at his feet. He turned and put some quarters in the washing machine to start it, then looked back up at Dean, biting his lip, still seemingly fighting a grin. “Um, I apologize for moving your laundry.”

“Well, in your defense, I fell asleep on it and they’d been there all night.”

“I suppose turnabout’s fair play?”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, guess so.”

Castiel nodded and fixed him with a pair of blue eyes that Dean was fairly certain he could stare at forever. “It was good to see you again, Dean.” 

As he moved around Dean to walk out the door, Dean stopped him. “Hey, uh, you wanna get some coffee?”

Castiel eyed the cup of coffee in Dean’s hand. “You...have coffee.”

“It’s cold.” It wasn’t. It was hot. And Castiel could obviously see the steam coming off of it. “And besides, _ you _ don’t have any.” 

Castiel looked back up at Dean from the cup, that smile on his face again. “I...would like that very much, Dean.”


End file.
